Castiel's Flu
by TheDeadlyViper
Summary: There just weren't enough Sick!Cas. Just way too many Sick!Dean and Sick!Sam. So I decided to remedy that. Pretty nasty descriptions of sickness.


Dean was sitting in the motel room alone with the angel made human, Castiel. He was doing some research on the lap top, Sam had gone out for supplies, of course, that had been hours ago. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed quietly, so quietly, in fact, that unnerved the blonde hunter. Dean finally looked up and spoke, just to break the silence.

"Hey Cas, what's wrong? You gotta funny look on your face." He said. Of course, Cas always had a funny look on his face. His lack of normal human facial expressions never got less freaky. At the moment, it was the far off expression he had, one hand across his stomach that seemed weird.

"I do?" Cas asked, turning his attention to Dean when he spoke and Dean gave a nod in response. "It's just…the vessel. I think it might be broken." Cas said, sounding a bit sad. After all, he had developed quite a bond with the body of Jimmy Novak. Dean immediately closed the lap top and leapt off the bed and went to the angel's side.

"What do you mean, broken? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?" Dean prompted worriedly. Cas put both hands on his stomach.

"Here." Cas said quietly. Dean crouched down and lifted Cas' shirt, looking for any signs of injury. Nothing. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Since Cas had lost his angel mojo …wasn't it possible…could he be sick?

"Is it pain or is just uncomfortable?" Dean asked. At least the angel would have some reference point for this, having been stabbed several times.

"Mm...yes. Uncomfortable." Cas agreed immediately. He didn't understand. A short while ago, he'd felt normal. Or as normal as it felt to be mortal. Suddenly, he'd started to sweat and his stomach had started to feel strange. Oh shit, Dean thought. Yeah it sure sounded like he was sick. He reached over and put a hand on the dark haired man's forehead, felt warmth there slightly higher than it should have been and he took Cas' hand.

"Okay, gotta get up, Cas. We're gonna go to the bathroom, 'kay?" Dean told him. Cas did as Dean asked and lifted himself off the bed, but was confused. What exactly was going on? He'd been without powers for a while, was beginning to understand some of the finer points of human behavior, but this was a new one on him.

"But why? I don't need to use the bathroom." Cas had no shame and so didn't mind asking Dean to explain this to him in detail. Dean guided Cas into the dingy motel room bathroom.

"Sure. You say that now. I think you might be sick. I need you to get down on your knees, like that." The blonde said, giving the angel's shoulders a gentle push down. Ah. Yes. Castiel was aware of sickness, as a general concept, though he didn't quite understand the mechanics of how it all worked. He knew it was something that affected human bodies and zapped their strength. Sometimes it even killed them.

"Am I going to die?" Cas asked and did Dean detect a bit of worry in his voice?

"No, 'course not." Dean told him firmly. "I wouldn't let that happen. Think you might hurl though."

"Wha-" Cas had begun and Dean was already cutting him off to explain this better.

"It's what humans do when they get sick. It's…" Dean ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair, struggling for a way to explain this concept. "It's like eating in reverse. Instead of food going in, it comes back out." Cas looked over at Dean, crouching by his side. Surely, this couldn't be possible, but after a minute without Dean cracking a smirk, he realized that the hunter was all too serious.

"That disgusts me." The angel told him simply and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah. Me too. It's not real pretty."

"Is it very painful?" Cas asked and now Dean was sure he heard fear in his voice.

"Nah. Not painful. Just uncomfortable for a little while." Dean said, trying to give him the most honest answer as well as the most comfort. Cas could feel his stomach, or rather, the stomach of Jimmy Novak doing strange little movements. The feelings of fullness had increased greatly and his mouth seemed much wetter than normal so he had to keep swallowing.

"Dean, I'm feeling fear." Cas said and the blonde felt a stab of sympathy. The angel was pretty much a bad ass, but without his powers, at the mercy of his body, he was like scared kid. Dean reached over and put a hand on Cas' lower back.

"Don't be afraid. I'm right here. And look, it happens to me and Sammy all the time and we always pull through. So will you." Dean told him and close as he was, heard Cas' stomach give a growl.

"Dean-ugh..ugggghhhhhhlll!" Cas had meant to say that he couldn't breathe, but in the next second he understood why. It felt like his stomach was rushing up to meet his throat and suddenly a fountain of watery, brown stuff was pouring out of him. At the first sign of distress, Dean's hand had shot out and gripped the back of Cas' neck, trying to get his head over the toilet, but without much luck. Cas didn't seem to understand the object of the game. Half of it went in, the other half spilled over the side, hit the floor, hit Cas' pants and Dean could already feel some of it soaking warmly into the knees of his jeans. Nice. Awesome. Nothin' like kneeling in a puddle of puke that wasn't even yours. Cas was struggling with his breath because every time he tried to breathe in, his stomach twisted and more of the stuff came out. When it finally did stop for a second, Cas was reaching over with one hand, grabbing up a fistful of Dean's thigh, making the blonde jump in surprise.

"I don't like this. I-I can't breathe. I want it to stop." The angel moaned, slightly lifting his head. Dean kneaded Cas' neck softly, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his leg where Cas had a death grip on him.

"Shhh. S'okay. It'll be over soon." Dean said over Cas' ragged breathing. He was struggling pretty hard with this. Most human functions, Cas had realized, you had at least some degree of control over, but not this. You were completely helpless as your body took over. He imagined it was a little like being possessed and wondered with some guilt if that was how Jimmy Novak felt when he took over his body. They waited together, until Cas groaned and started to puke again and Dean pushed him forward. This time, his aim was better and the streams of brownish liquid made it completely into the toilet bowl. Dean waited for Cas to stop again, gasp and cough before he moved his hand and patted the angel's back a few times.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Cas was too afraid to move his head because his stomach was shivering slightly.

"I don't know…Is…is it over?" He asked, hopefully.

"I don't know, Cas. You just have to wait and see." Dean said, slipping an arm around the angel's waist. "I want to try and get cleaned up though, okay?" He helped Cas to stand, guided him over to the sink and filled a cup. "Just put some in your mouth and swish it around, then spit it back out." He directed. He managed to grab a towel, still supporting him and wiped his face, hands and arms and guided him back to the room to strip off the puke covered clothes. Somehow, it didn't feel all that weird to be stripping down to boxers with another man. Okay, maybe it was weird, but it was Castiel after all, so that made it somewhat less awkward. He pushed his angel into lying down on his side and ran to get a trash can, having to step over the puke to get it. Now settled, Dean sat down too and ran his fingers through Cas' hair.

"Okay, listen. If you start to get that feeling again? I need you try to lean over the trash can, okay?" The blonde said.

"Okay Dean, I will try." Cas promised.

"Now, I have to go clean up the bathroom." Dean said, trying to stand, but Cas had reached out, put a hand on Dean's thigh again, though, thank God, this time it was a much softer grip. He was going to have one hell of a bruise on his leg tomorrow.

"Please, don't go." Cas had flipped onto his back and was looking up, frightened.

"But Cas-I….shit. Okay. Let me try and call Sam." Dean said, reaching over the bedside table for his phone. He flipped it open, dialed Sam's number. It rang a few times.

"Hello?" Sam's voice drifted to him from the other end.

"Sam, look, I need you to come back, wherever you are. Cas is really sick. I need some help here." Dean said. He didn't tell Sam _how_ Cas was sick, because being informed of being on puke clean up duty would probably make Sam less inclined to return. Sam's immediate thought was, 'So what?', but his brother had been there for him plenty of times. He figured it wouldn't hurt to return the favor now and then.

"Kay." Sam said. "On my way." Dean hung up and put the phone back. By then, Cas was struggling to sit up again and Dean reacted quickly, picking up the trash can, bringing it closer. Cas made a couple of harsh gagging noises, but not much seemed to be coming out. Apparently, he'd gotten most of it out on the bathroom floor. Cas lifted his head, string of ropey saliva hanging from his mouth and Dean reached for a tissue from the box on the night stand and wiped it away, cringing only slightly as he did. Dean put the trash can down and suddenly Cas was gripping his hand. This was exactly where they were when Sam walked in.

"How is he?" Sam asked, setting down a few bags. Wherever he'd been, at least he had actually gotten food, Dean thought. Sam could already figure it out. Trash can by bed. Whole room smelt sour and nasty.

"Pukin' his guts out." Dean said needlessly. "So…I need you to…well…he got really sick in the bathroom and-"

"No." Sam said firmly. There was no way he came back just for that.

"C'mon Sammy. He's never been sick like this before. He's scared." Dean said. "Please?"

Sam groaned. "I hate you." And went off to perform his duty. Dean felt a little pleased at the gagging noises coming from the bathroom as Sam cleaned. It was only fair, he thought. He'd been the one up to his knees in it.

"Okay. It's done." Sam said as he returned and flopped onto his back on the other bed.

"One more thing." Dean said, looking up over.

"Jesus, what now?" Sam griped.

"N…not Jesus…." Cas groaned beneath Dean, which made Dean chuckle and Sam roll his eyes.

"Get a soda from the vending machine. Ginger ale, if you can." Dean said. Sam drew himself up, mumbling curses that were enough above a whisper to be heard. When Sam returned with the requested item, Dean put a strong hand beneath the angel's head. "Sit up, Cas. Just for a minute. Open that, Sam."

Cas groaned miserably, only half conscious. He tried to swat Dean away weakly, but found himself suddenly being pulled upright again. As soon as he was up, he felt what he had come to recognize as 'the urge' come on again. "Ugh. Ughh." Cas was making gagging, hiccupping noises and Dean absolutely could not grab the trash can and still hold Cas upright so he just let him gag where he was. When it stopped, he leaned the sick angel against the headboard and reached for the tissues again, wiping up the little bit of bile and spit he'd managed to dribble down his stomach.

"Damn. He's pretty sick, isn't he? Weird. Didn't think angels could _get_ sick." Sam was saying, from somewhere behind him.

"Yeah, but he doesn't have his powers." Dean pointed out. "He's as human as we are. Gimmie that soda." Cas had his eyes closed, leaning against the head board, trying to control 'the urge' and his breathing at once. "Drink a little bit of this, Cas. It'll make your stomach feel better. I promise." Cas opened his eyes, blue flashing and reached out a very weak hand to wrap around the cold can and Dean's hand.

"Slow. Just a little bit. Okay, that's enough." Dean said and took the soda back. The carbonation tickled the angel's nose, but the bubbles did seem to soothe his stomach somewhat. "Okay, you can lay down now." He said and helped Cas shift back down onto his side and began the soothing motion of running his hands through Cas' dark, sweat soaked hair. The sweat didn't bother him, not after the more disgusting of the angel's bodily fluids he'd already been in close contact with that night. As Dean did this, Sam was walking over to the bed opposite again.

"So, where you gonna sleep?" Sam asked Dean, as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"I…uh. Well, I thought I'd…ah….stay with Cas." Dean stammered, unable to raise his eyes to meet his brother's gaze.

"Oh yeah?" Sam said and smirked, dimples showing. Dean finally looked up, green eyes daring his brother to say a word. As if by telepathy, Sam shrugged. "What? I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah. You were thinkin' it." Dean mumbled. "So, shut up."

Dean wasn't gay. No way. He loved tits. On the other hand, the bond he felt with Castiel was pretty damn profound. After all, Cas had saved his soul from Hell. How many people could you really say that about? So maybe if they were close, really close, that could be expected. 'Leave it alone, man.' Dean told his brain in the quiet darkness of the motel room. 'It is what it is.' With that, he threw an arm over Cas' waist and closed his eyes.


End file.
